I took my oldest to see this movie much to his chagrin. It's sad to know that he will never know the MJ that I grew up with. He will not understand MJ other than what he was accused and what the media has guided him to believe. He loved every moment of the movie. It's the first time I have ever sat through a movie where as it ended, nobody moved. It was as though for a small moment, we didn't want it to end, we didn't want to realize that the King of Pop is gone. His music lives on as my child tries to mimic the moves until I have to get up and teach him the dance to Thriller.
This is it. This is the Michael I love. Traces of a boy suspended in between the gravitational pull of a miscarried childhood and the machine that made him the most grandiose entertainer the world has ever witnessed. Enjoying a sliver of downtime in a cable knit v-neck sweater, he is a style icon for the ages. This is the Michael I remember when I’m pumping my fist to “They Don’t Care About Us”.
T
No comments:
Post a Comment